


Loss

by Dlxm950



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Character Death, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Instability, Emotional suffering, F/F, Major Character Injury, Pain, Suffering, Unhappy Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-05
Updated: 2020-08-06
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:54:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25723921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dlxm950/pseuds/Dlxm950
Summary: Nyko released a breath he hadn’t even realized he’d been holding as he watched her turn back towards the throne, the sword falling from her hand to clatter against the ground. Knowing what was about to follow he helped the guards get Clark’s body and Titus out of the room.It was just as the elevator closed that the first of Lexa’s screams could be heard.
Relationships: Clarke Griffin/Lexa
Comments: 8
Kudos: 91





	1. Chapter 1

Lexa had sworn she would never feel this pain again. After Costia, after those three long months of waiting to see which part of her lover would come next, she promised herself never again. That fateful day when Titus had come into her room, Costia’s beautiful locks dangling between his fingers as her once bright blue eyes laid dull and dormant, that was the day she realized why the flamkepa had been so adamant in his lessons. To be the commander was to be alone. Because the alternative was so unimaginably horrible that one could not even begin to imagine the depth of it.

So she sealed off her heart, put up her walls, and embraced her destiny. On that day Lexa kom Trikru died, and from her ashes rose Heda Lexa. She became everything that was expected of her and more. She alone forged the coalition, she alone bent Azgeda to her will, she alone saved their people from the mountain and brought them all into a better world. She was cunning, ruthless, and deadly. To cross her was to cross death itself and suffer the consequences. 

And then she met Klark; beautiful, kind, and clever Klark. 

A woman born of conviction who faced _everything_ the world had thrown at her head on and survived. A woman who literally fell from the sky, a halo of golden hair around her head, raining fire and death from above. Forging the Skaikru from nothing more than the sweat and blood of her own hands and the shared suffering they had endured in such a short period of time. 

Their personal relationship had been...rough...to say the least of their greetings. A situation born of the Skaikru’s similarities to the Maun-hef and Lexa’s own uncertainty. Yet it was Klark who changed her mind, Klark who championed her people's cause, Klark who forged ties among the coalition and brought them closer to victory than they had ever been before. And in the end, it was Klark, not Lexa, who single-handedly brought down the mountain. 

Klark who poked and prodded until those walls Lexa had so carefully crafted around herself began to crack and crumble.

She would admit it to none other than Klark exactly why she had Roan bring the woman to Polis. Why she went through all that effort to make sure Klark was safe and warm and comfortable. To many beyond the tower (and even some within) her motives had been simple, to secure the power of Wanheda and the Skaikru’s tek before Azgeda did, and they would be correct to an extent. Yet there was more, so much more. 

Lexa cared for her, loved her, cherished her, craved her, and a thousand other feelings she could scarcely put into words.

Titus had always told her that her greatest weakness was her connections to the material world, and he was right. When she had received Costia’s head she had been ready to march on Azgeda. Fueled by her anger and her rage she would have seen their lands razed and their people slaughtered. Were it not for Nyko’s timely interference she may have actually done it. Now that same fire burned for Klark, that selfish need to protect her and hold her close, to make sure that no harm would come to her as it had Costia. 

Which is perhaps, why it hurt so much more when it did.

“Come on Klark, you must fight!”

Lexa was crouched over Clarke’s prone figure, her hands pressed tightly against the bullet wound now profusely bleeding onto the floor. 'There was so much, too much, she would not survive, even if they got her to a healer in time' the rational part of her brain reasoned. 

“No! You must fight Klark, Ai hodnes please, you must breathe.” 

Clarke was shaking now, her hands trembling as they rose to ghost across Lexa’s cheek, a small smile on her lips. Lexa was quick to take the hand in her own, nuzzling into it as tears began to fall. 

There was so much red, it was everywhere at this point, soaking the fabric of Lexa’s pants and staining the various carpets and furs around them. 

“L..lex...a…” Clarke wheezed, her voice scratchy and garbled as she tried to speak through the blood undoubtedly flooding her lungs. Her face scrunched up in pain at the effort, her chest heaving as her body tried to stop the total failure encompassing it. 

“Shhh, shhh, you must conserve your energy. Just a little bit longer, just stay with me, Nyko will be here soon.” Lexa’s voice was entirely unfamiliar, even to herself. It was scratchy and rough, choked by the pressure of her own grief. 

Clarke frowned at her for a moment, and Lexa couldn’t help the small choked laugh that escaped her. Then the frown melted back into that smile, beautiful white teeth and those bright blue eyes. 

Her chest rose and fell, a single tear slid down her cheek, and she was gone. 

For a moment the room was absolutely silent. No one daring to say a word. It was as if the world itself had stopped as everything good in Lexa’s life slipped away into the void.

“Heda I came as fast as I coul-” Nyko called out as he rushed into the room, only for his voice to fall flat as he laid eyes upon the scene before him.

Cautiously he stepped forward, making sure to stand wide so Lexa could see him, before leaning down and placing two fingers against Clarke's neck. The skin was cold to the touch, not that he expected much else considering the large pool of blood he was kneeling in. 

“She...her soul has passed.” He announced to the room before standing up, making sure to close Clarke's eyes as he did so. He turned to the guards still stationed at the door as he continued. “Take Titus to the dungeon and prepare transport. We leave for Arkadia at Heda’s command.”

They looked between him and Lexa for a few moments, but when the Commander failed to indicate anything they moved to do as ordered. The two by the door were the first to step forward, moving slowly as they attempted to pull Clark’s body up from the floor. Heda resisted (not that he expected her not to), refusing to release Clarke’s head from her grasp; once more he slowly moved forward, gently placing his hands atop Lexa’s and, (when he did not lose said hands) began to finger pry them back, finger by finger. After only a minute Clarke was free, the poor girl's head falling lifelessly to the side. 

Still, Heda did not move. That is until the guards attempted to take Titus away.

“ _Hod_ _op!_ ” She called out, her voice like steel as she rose to her feet. 

What Nyko saw was one of the most terrifying things he had ever seen before. Her eyes were like ice, cold and restrained, her face free of all emotions beyond the single tear slowly making its way down her cheek. Her cheek was smeared with the bloody handprint of her lover, the single blond braid standing out against her brown hair. A shiver ran down Nyko’s spine as he watched her bloodied hands pull the sword from the sheath at her hip. Faster than he could blink she had the edge at Titus' throat, her face clear of all remorse, her hands free from the weight of mercy,

“Heda…” He said softly, his own bloodied hands stretched out in a placating motion. 

“Jus drien jus daun.” She said softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Is that what Clark would want?” He asked her. “Is that what she sacrificed everything for when she stood with you  _ against _ her people?”

If Heda was giving any thought to his words she did not show it. Her eyes remained locked on the traitor, never blinking, not even breathing. Then, for just a moment, barely a fraction of a second, he saw it. The muscles around her eyes relaxed, just barely, hardly even noticeable to most people. But enough that everyone, including the guards, relaxed. 

Which is of course, when everything went wrong.

“She was a weakness!” Titus called out to the commander just as she turned back to the throne. “She threatened the coalition by making you weak. Now that she is gone you will once again be the strength that holds the coalition together. To be the Commander is to be alone."

The tension returned to the Commander tenfold from mere seconds ago, the sword at her side shaking with her barely restrained rage.

“Heda…” Nyko began softly once more. “Remember the strength Clarke gave you, remember what she taught you. That was her strength, not this, not vengeance.”

Once again the commander remained frozen, but this time she did not calm. He blinked and Titus was missing an arm, the empty gun clattering to the ground along with his left hand. The man blinked at it for a few moments, the shock from the injury numbing the pain for only a brief moment before the inevitable cry of agony fell from his lips. He writhed on the ground, clutching desperately at his shoulder where the limb had previously connected to his body, his cries loud enough that it would come as no surprise if all of Polis heard it. After a few minutes, he stopped. His unconscious body falling to the floor as one of the guards slammed the pommel of his staff into the man's head. Unfortunately, that didn’t seem to satisfy Heda, her body moving like a storm as she turned on him once again, her blade at the ready against his neck. 

“Nou Heda!” He cried out. “Jus nou drien jus daun, nou jus drien jus daun. Wanheda don dula nou wan op jos krei Yu could frag op em killer.” 

His words seemed to garner little of his Heda’s attention this time. Her blade pressing ever harder against Titus' neck, a single pearl of red falling as her blade began to pierce his skin. So, unwilling to let his Heda make a mistake she would never forgive herself for, Nyko made one last desperate attempt to stop her from throwing it all away.

“His death is not yours alone to claim!”

That, at last, made her stop. The blade pausing before, after a very tense moment, pulling away. 

Nyko released a breath he hadn’t even realized he’d been holding as he watched her turn back towards the throne. Carefully, he began to treat Titus wounds, watching the Commander out of the corner of his eye as he worked to stop the bleeding. She had moved to stand at the window, her hair fluttering in the small breeze. Eventually, by some miracle, he managed to get the bleeding to stop. And just as he stood to receive his Commanders order he watched the sword fall from her hand to clatter against the ground. Knowing what was about to follow he helped the guards get Clark’s body and Titus out of the room. He did not fear the woman throwing herself from the window, but he certainly feared being the first one she saw as all the grief and rage finally broke free. 

The walk through the halls to the elevator was difficult. Not only because he was carrying the body of a young woman he had gotten to know well, but because everywhere they went was a spectacle. Various workers and guards muttering among themselves as they watched him and the guards carry the dead body of Wanheda and the one-armed Titus past them. A few offered prayers to the fallen girl, muttering blessings and wishing her peace beyond the veil. One or two muttered a few less than savoury comments but were smart enough to keep them quiet enough that they could be passed off as nothing more than intelligible mutterings. But, after the longest three minutes of his life, they reached the elevator. 

But as it opened everything only got more complicated.

When the door opened it was not empty. Both Indra and Kane's faces greeted him as the metal sheets screeched open, the fist in surprise and the second in confusion.

"Indra, Kane." He muttered, uncertain as to how much they knew. 

"Nyko, the Commander-"

"Is fine, Indra. Though the same cannot be said for her assailant." He interrupted her with a kick a Titus body were it laid slumped against the wall. 

That seemed to satisfy her but not Kane. He stared at the wrapped body Nyko and the other guard held on their shoulders, looking in confusion between it and Titus. 

"Well, if the Commander is fine and Titus the attacker, who's in the bag?" He asked. "And where's Clarke?"

Indra seemed to piece it together first, her face solemn as she noticed a small strong of blond hair sticking out from between the fabric. 

"Markus, I think it best we get you somewhere else." She told him as she attempted to pull him aside to Nyko and the guards could pass.

"No. Lexa liked to keep Clarke close, if someone tried to kill her then odds were Clarke was there. I need to make sure she's safe."

"I understand that but there may be more assailants in the tower, it's not safe here. We need to get you somewhere secure."

"Not without Clarke."

With a sigh, Nyko stopped Indra from trying any further. The man was stubborn, a common quality among the Skykru apparently, it would do them no good to try and lie to him. So, with a heavy heart, Nyko pulled away the fabric covering Clarke's face.

At first, Markus didn't seem to know what to say or do. He simply stared at Clarke's dead face in shock, before that began to fall to disbelief and grief. Gently, he ran a hand along her forehead, brushing her hair behind her ears as a single tear fell from his left eye. Gently, he laid his palm flat against her head and spoke, "May we meet again".

After the man had been given a moment to collect himself, Indra took over for the guard holding Clarke's feet, and all three of them entered the elevator. Little was said as they descended, the weight of the days lose seeming to rob them of any words they may try to speak. That is, until just about halfway down, when Marcus spoke once more.

"What am I going to tell Abby? This...will break her in a way I don't think she'll be able to recover from." He asked aloud.

"Abby is a strong woman. No doubt it will hurt, but given time, she will recover." Indra told him.

"And what of Arcadia? We've only just stopped an all-out genocidal war between our people, a peace spearheaded by Clarke. When word gets out that she was killed, in Polic, by Lexa's closest advisor of all people, we'll be lucky if they only stop with his head." 

"A problem for another day." Nyko interrupted once more. "For now, a young woman is dead, let us see her taken to her final resting ground. Politics can be tomorrow's issue. Today, we morn."

Neither Indra nor Markus had anything to say to that. Instead, they all took a breath as they reached the bottom, preparing as much as they could for what would inevitably be the hardest week of their lives.

* * *

Translations

Ai hodnes: My love

Maun-hef: Mountain Men

Heda: Commander

_Hod_ _op!:_ _Stop!_

Jus drien jus daun: Blood must have blood

Nou Heda: no Heda

Jus nou drien jus daun, nou jus drien jus daun: blood must not have blood, not blood must have blood

Wanheda don dula nou wan op jos krei Yu could frag op em killer: [The] Commander of death did not die just so you could kill her killer


	2. I'm Trapped in a Nightmare (and all my Dreams are Full of Lies)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Then it was just Lexa.  
> Just as it had always been, as it always seemed to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Not so) Surprise! Second chapter.

Lexa sat silently in her guest quarters, her leather uniform forgotten in favour of what Skaikru called ‘jeans and t-shirt’. The pants fabric was rough against her skin but also comfortable, far more resilient and flexible than anything the coalition had to offer. Perhaps she would requisition some to be brought to Polis, she knew of many fine tailors who would love to get their hands on such material. Perhaps she would even have them make some for-

...no, she would not.

Gently she pulled Clarkes watch off the desk, its worn leather straps warm in her hands to spite the cool metal it had been resting on. Running a thumb across its shattered face she released a sigh, three days had calmed the raging fire within her but that only left a room for all the grief she had tried so hard to suppress. 

_ She released a grunt as she collapsed backwards into her bed. A sigh of relief escaping her as her bruised and battered body finally had a moment to relax.  _

_ “I take it the training with the Nightbloods went well then?” _

_ Clarke, sweet,  _ beautiful _ , Clarke.  _

_ “They grow stronger each day.” She responded, a blissful hum escaping her as a cold damp cloth pressed against the heated skin of her forehead. Her eyes closed as she allowed herself to savour the attention of her lover. The mattress dipped slightly as two hands urged her to sit up, with a grunt she did so. Rolling her shoulders forward she used the momentum to lean forward as Clarke slipped in behind her.  _

_ Another moan, this one far louder and  _ far _ less dignified, as two hands began to press into her shoulders. At first, it was painful. Clarke’s skilled and dutiful hands pressing into every sore spot and every tight muscle, an unrelenting pressure that refused to yield.  _

_ “I take it that’s grounder for ‘they handed me my ass’?” Clarke teased as she pressed into a particularly resilient knot. _

_ “Hnng! Something along those lines-by the sacred flame!”  _

_ Clarke had apparently found the tensest part of her body, Lightning coursed up her spine as pain flooded her veins like lava. She gasped and heaved as the pain continued to grow, her back arching as Clarke gave one last press with her knuckle into the small of her spine.  _

_ Then relief of the sweetest kind.  _

_ She stretched, her arms rising high above her head, her back popping as all the tension and pain of the days training melted away. _

_ “You are good at that. Good enough to open a business, should you so desire.” Lexa murmured softly as she released a yawn. _

_“And then what? Spend my days working down in the market while I wait for my_ dashing commander _to whisk me away at the end of each day?”_

_ They lay together on the bed facing each other, Clarke’s arms around her neck and her own wrapped around Clarke’s waist. At those words she brought a hand up to rub along the gap between Clarke’s shirt and pants, simply savouring the feel of her lover's skin as she gathered the strength to say the words she so desperately wishes to say. _

_ “Would that truly be so horrible?” She asked, her voice barely above a whisper as her eyes rose to meet Clarke’s own. “To have something permanent? To...be together...at the end of each day?”  _

_ The teasing smirk fell from Clarke’s mouth at her tone, a kind smile and gentle gaze replacing it. _

_ “I think…”, she began as she leaned her head in close, “that sounds like a dream come true.” She finished, her voice barely loud enough over the pounding in Lexa’s ears before their lips met in a gentle kiss. _

The door to her room opened with a hiss, pulling her from the memory. The watch fell from her hands as she jumped, her arms barely managing to recover in time and catch it before it had the chance to hit the ground. Not that it really mattered if it did (it  _ definitely did _ ) the watch was broken anyway. 

“Commander.” Markus Kane said respectfully, his voice perfectly neutral in only the way someone who played politics could.

“Chancellor.” She replied. “How can I be of assistance?” 

“I just...wanted to let you know that we’ve finished prepping the body. Should you wish to say your final farewells.” He told her calmly, as though the woman they were burning were nothing more than another tally on the wall.

She decided not to voice that last part.

“Thank you, I’ll be there shortly.”

He nodded once before stepping back through the doorway, the metal sliding shut with a hiss.

She looked down at the watch again, thumbing it for a moment before wrapping it around her wrist. The weight of it was both familiar and unfamiliar, she had certainly worn it enough for her to have adapted its weight into her movements, but...it was wrong. Like every cell in her body knew it shouldn’t be there. That it belonged not on her wrist, but the one that should be beside it. 

Would Clarke have wanted her to wear it? Would she have wanted Lexa to have it to remember her by? Or did she want it burned with her? So she could at last return it to her father when they met in the afterlife. 

…maybe she was thinking too hard about it. 

She quickly tied Clarke’s jacket (now cleaned of blood stains) around her waist and made her way out. 

The door opening and closing once more, with a hiss.

Various Skaikru were walking down the halls. Mostly guards, given away by their dark clothing and leather armour (and guns), doing their rotations. A few slowed as they passed her, brows raised but inevitably continued with their duties. It wasn’t unexpected, nor undeserved, their mistrust of her. Barely a day since Pike's death and she had ridden into their city, Clarke’s body following just behind.

_ “Open the gates! Let them in!”  _

_ Lexa could hear the cry over the gate followed by a rush of soldiers. There was a brief pause before the telltale creak of the gates opening mechanism reached her ears. Then the grate metal wall parted, revealing to her Arcadia within. It was at that moment that she truly felt the weight of the body riding in the cart behind her.  _

_ Especially when she saw the woman there to greet them.  _

_ Abby Griffin looked as though she, as Clarke would so eloquently put it, walked through hell and back. Blood covered the right side of her face, a single long cut above her right eyebrow still bleeding slightly. There were a few bullet holes in her jacket, but otherwise, she seemed uninjured.  _

_ She looked out towards Lexa, frowning slightly when she failed to find the obvious missing person usually beside the commander. _

_ Lexa knew she should urge her steed forward. All around her the soldiers began to get antsy at her inaction, swaying slightly on their feet and thumbing their weapons nervously. Yet she couldn’t. Her breath became shallow, her hand shaking against the reigns of her horse, her eyes wide and vulnerable.  _ _ She couldn’t do it, this had been a mistake. She should turn back, fake an urgent message, anything to avoid riding through those gates. Anything to avoid confronting the horrible truth it would bring. Anything just for another second of ignorance to believe that Clarke wasn’t lying dead in the cart behind her.  _

_ “Commander…?” Indra spoke softly.  _

_ The woman's voice pulled Lexa from her stupor. Her breath evening out, the reigns grasped confidently once more. However, just as she went to urge her horse forward Kane stopped her. _

_ “Perhaps.” He whispered softly to her. “It would be best if I were to go first. It will be hard enough without making a public spectacle with it.” _

_ He was, of course, correct. Better to break the news to the leadership first. That way they would be able to tell their people in the right way. They deserved that much, at least. (Abby deserved that much, to grieve for a daughter she doesn't even know is dead yet away from the prying eyes of her people.) _

_ She nodded her assent.  _

_ He muttered a small thank you before gently urging his horse forward, Lexa and the grounder waiting patiently as he did so. A few Skaikru were looking worried by their inaction, muttering nervously to each other as they glanced between their leaders and Lexa. She couldn’t blame them, the last time the coalition had gathered outside their walls it was to invade, a healthy dose of concern was to be expected.  _

_ She did her best to remain as unthreatening as possible while Marcus rode forward. Offering small nodes of her head to the few Skaikru brave enough to step beyond the safety of the wall. One or two even dared to try and talk to a few of her soldiers. Not that it did them any good when it became obvious her soldiers didn’t understand what they were saying. _

_ She watched Kane as he approached Abby, the man dismounting his horse and pulling the woman into a tight hug. She wondered, briefly, if there was more to them than met the eye. Her question was answered when they separated, Abby pulling Markus into a tight kiss. _

_ It was at that point that Lexa could look no further. Her own heart breaking just that little bit more with the knowledge that she would never again be able to do the same. (Later it would occur to her that she had thought the same after Costia, but refused to travel any further down that train of thought). _

_ So, instead of watching the two Skaikru leaders reunite she turned her head to look down at Clarke. Her body was wrapped in a thick layer of fine red silk and tied together with golden ribbons. Various markings had been painted and drawn upon it, some were blessings for the afterlife while others simply offered prayers to the family. Then, right in the middle, the symbol of Wanheda. Three bright white half-moons arranged in a flower-like shape with a ring around them.  _

_ It was just as Lexa moved to touch it that the scream rang out. _

She had just passed the medical clinic when she ran into a friendly face.

“Hey there eyebrows.” 

“Revion.” Lexa replied with a nod of her head.

She had thought their interaction would end there, but it seemed fate was not on her side today. Revion moved to walk alongside her, the two of them walking down the halls in incredibly awkward silence. One which was only interrupted when it became too much for Revion.

“You know, I’m surprised you're still here. I thought you would have been needed back in Polis by now.” Revion said as they rounded the corner to the command center.

“The coalition can survive without me for a week. It is hardly the first time.” She responded. Stopping when the following words choked in her throat. “I...I couldn’t….it is good to be away from it all.” 

(To be away from the memories of Clarke’s death).

“I get that. Something terrible happens and everyone expects you to just get back up and get back to work like you're some kind of machine.” 

Lexa glanced briefly down at the strange support wrapped around Revion’s leg but said nothing otherwise. 

Eventually, they reach the command center itself, at which point Revion said she had to go. She said something about seeing Lexa at the ceremony before leaning forward and pulling Lexa into a hug. The action caught her off guard but, slowly, she leaned into it. Scouring the rare opportunity to share her pain with another. 

It ended far too quickly.

For a moment Lexa staggered at the loss, her body suddenly cold as she watched Revion walk away. Once again alone to bear her pain.

_ Watching Abby cry and sob as she held the dead body of her daughter was easily one of the hardest things Lexa had ever had the displeasure of seeing. To watch such a strong and composed woman fall to pieces as she held the last remnant of her family.  _

_ It reminded Lexa too much of herself in Clarke’s final moments.  _

_ Except Lexa had been able to hold her as she passed, to cherish Clarke’s last breath and hear her dying words. Abby was afforded no such comforts, no such condolence, only a cold body whose soul had long since departed from their mortal plane.  _

_ Markus was beside her, arms wrapped around the broken woman's shoulders, whispering reassurances and offering as much strength as he could. _

_ Then there were the others, Clarke’s friends. _

_ Bellamy looked as though the world had finally drained the last of his spirit from his body. His eyes dead to the world beyond the tears falling down his cheek. Beside him, the one called Monty shed his own tears. She noted that Octavia wasn’t here but filled that away to be discussed later.  _

_ “What. Happened.” Bellamy demanded, his face contorted with anger, his voice full of rage. _

_ “Bellamy-” _

_ “No, Markus.” Abby interrupted him, her eyes glaring up at Lexa. “I want to hear  _ exactly _ how my daughter died in the safest building in the coalition.”  _

_ “It…” Her words once again failed her, a seemingly common occurrence after Clarke’s passing. But she collected herself, taking a deep breath before continuing. _

_ “It was murder. Plain and simple. My advisor, Titus, thought that our love was making me too weak to properly lead our people. When I refused to send Clarke away, he took matters into his own hands. Using a gun he confiscated from the one you call Murphy, he waited for the two of us in her room and shot her the moment we stepped in.” _

_ Her words seemed to settle over them like a storm. A few, like Monty and Markus, nodded at her words. Abby, though, it was as if Lexa’s tale had lit a fire in her very soul. The older woman stumbling to her feet as she glared Lexa down with red-rimmed eyes.  _

_ “So once again my daughter has paid the price for your mistakes. Once again we are left to clean up  _ your _ coalitions messes. Once. Again.  _ I _ am paying for someone  _ else's  _ failures!” _

_ Lexa couldn’t even meet her eyes. The shame of her failure too great for her to even try.  _

When she stepped into the command center she was greeted by the sight of Abby and Markus sitting beside Clarke’s body. Her lover’s form had been cleaned of all dirt, and her clothes free from any blood, revealing the pale death beneath. 

Markus offered her a node while Abby continued to ignore her, just as she had been doing since that fateful day. The woman was holding Clarke’s hand, idly caressing it with her thumb as she sat in silence, her gaze locked on the horizon. 

“Abby?” Markus said as he kneeled in front of her. “Abby we need to step out for a minute.” 

It took a while, but eventually, her eyes blinked a few times before she stood. 

Gently, Markus led her towards the door. His hand resting gently on Abby’s back as he did so. He offered her a small, sad, smile as he passed.

Abby said and did nothing. Just continued to shuffle towards the door.

It hissed open and then hissed closed. 

Then it was just Lexa.

Just as it had always been, as it always seemed to be. 

**Author's Note:**

> So the summary was actually the original ending to this story before I changed it but I figured it was worth saving.  
> Anyway...  
> What did you all think? Feel free to leave a comment, constructive criticism is always welcome, just try and keep it respectful. I really want to hear what you all think about this story.   
> Should I write another chapter exploring the return of Clarke's body to Arcadia? How do you all think Lexa would have reacted if it had been Clarke who was shot instead of her?


End file.
